Obedient Faith: No Pride, No Platform, Just Christ

I’ve lived 55 years with same-sex attraction.

And I’ve lived most of those years feeling like a man without a tribe.

Not gay enough for the world.
Not straight enough for the Church.
Not loud enough for the activists.
Not quiet enough for the pews.

But something shifted three years ago. That’s when I truly began studying the Bible—not just attending church, but diving deep into Scripture for myself. And the more I studied, the more I saw: God wasn’t asking me to clean myself up—He was inviting me to surrender. Not once, but daily. Not for applause, but for obedient faith.

That obedience has been slow in coming. Hard-fought. Often imperfect. And only over the past several years have I made the decision to embrace celibacy—not out of fear, but out of faith. Not because I stopped feeling desire, but because I started desiring Christ more.

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Pride Month Is Everywhere—But What If You’re Not Celebrating?

It’s June, and that means Pride flags are flying on storefronts, corporate logos are turning rainbow, and society is preaching a message loud and clear: “Be proud of who you are. Celebrate your sexuality. Live your truth.”

But what if you don’t?

What if your identity isn’t defined by your attractions—but by your Savior?

What if you’ve chosen to surrender your sexual desires—not because you hate yourself, but because you love Christ?

What if your “truth” doesn’t line up with the culture’s definition—but does align with God’s?

That’s where I live. Every day. Quietly. Often alone. At peace in many ways—but also aware of the real cost. I’ve chosen obedient faith over affirmation, and that road is narrow.

And I know I’m not the only one.

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I Didn’t Choose These Desires—But I Choose What I Do With Them

I didn’t wake up one day and decide to feel attracted to the same sex. Like many others, it’s simply always been there. I’ve prayed for it to go away. Sometimes I still do. But for reasons only God fully understands, it hasn’t.

Still, I’ve made a choice. I won’t act on those desires. I won’t let them define me. I won’t twist Scripture to justify something God clearly speaks against. Instead, I’ve chosen celibacy—quietly, recently, and honestly.

And while I’m grateful for the grace that makes that possible, I won’t lie—it’s also lonely.

If you’re wondering why some Christians take this route, this article from GotQuestions offers a helpful biblical explanation of celibacy and its spiritual purpose.

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Too Gay for the World, Too Christian for the Church

In the gay community, my convictions are seen as betrayal. People assume I’m repressed, brainwashed, or filled with self-hate. I’m not.

I just believe Jesus is worth more than sex.
He’s worth more than cultural acceptance.
He’s worth more than being understood.

But in many churches—especially conservative ones—I’ve rarely felt truly seen.
Welcomed, yes. But not embraced.
Listened to, sometimes. But not trusted.
Included, occasionally. But not equal.

Even when I made it clear that I was walking in obedient faith, some churches still treated me like a quiet threat or a theological outlier. That hurts in a different way.

If you’ve experienced spiritual rejection for standing on truth, you may want to read my post on False Teachings in Today’s Church.

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A Life Without the Perks

I’ve watched people around me thrive in ways I quietly longed for—especially in the corporate world.

I’ve seen how being straight, attractive, and traditionally married opens doors. It gets you invited to the dinners, included in the networking circles, trusted in leadership roles. My sisters, whom I love, enjoyed those societal blessings simply because they fit the mold. I didn’t.

I’m not saying that with bitterness. I’m saying it with clarity. There is a cost to being different—especially when you refuse to play for either team.

I didn’t march in Pride parades.
I didn’t get applause from the world.
I didn’t get a seat at the Church’s inner table, either.

I just quietly kept seeking Christ. And sometimes that feels like walking in the wilderness.

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But Then, Grace Found Me in Community

After years of feeling unwelcome in churches that didn’t know what to do with someone like me, I finally found a church where I was embraced—not for what I could offer, not for what I’d overcome, but for who I was: a man pursuing obedient faith.

This church is led by a pastor I’ve known since childhood—someone whose family I grew up with. He teaches the Word faithfully and welcomed me with open arms. He didn’t compromise Scripture, and he didn’t compromise grace. And for the first time in years, I felt like I belonged.

I didn’t need to erase my story. I didn’t need to rewrite my theology. I just needed to be welcomed as someone chasing holiness in a world that doesn’t understand it.

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Not a Victim—Just a Witness

This isn’t a sob story. I’m not a victim. I’ve made my choices—and I don’t regret them. But I write this for the few others like me:

• If you’re same-sex attracted and you’ve chosen celibacy out of reverence for Scripture…
• If you’ve walked away from the rainbow but never quite found a home in the pews…
• If you feel like a spiritual orphan with nowhere to belong…

I want you to know: you are not alone.

We are few.
But we are faithful.
And our obedient faith matters.

If this resonates with you, you may also find encouragement in Being a Bold Christian Without Being Combative.

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The Church Needs to See Us

Churches often don’t know what to do with people like us. We don’t fit the “ex-gay” testimony they want to put on stage. And we don’t fit the activist narrative they fear.

But we are part of the body.
We are walking in truth.
And we are carrying crosses every single day—quietly, without applause.

Don’t overlook us. Don’t patronize us. Don’t pretend we’re not here.

Instead, celebrate the grace of God in our lives, just as you would in the life of a recovering addict, a reformed narcissist, or a redeemed adulterer.

We are not special cases. We are just disciples.
We’re not here to be fixed—we’re already following.

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What Keeps Me Going

Obedient faith is hard. But it’s not without joy.

What keeps me going isn’t cultural acceptance or church recognition. It’s the quiet voice of the Savior who said:

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

That’s what I live for.
Not the rainbow.
Not the round of applause.
Just the reward of faithfulness.

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A Message to the Few

If you’re like me—tired of trying to find your place between two extremes—know this:

• You are loved.
• You are not forgotten.
• And your obedient faith is beautiful in the eyes of God.

You may never get a platform. You may never be fully understood. But you are seen. And one day, when you stand before the only One whose opinion matters, you’ll know every lonely step was worth it.

Until then, keep walking.

No pride.
No platform.
Just Christ.

Arch Kennedy
Bold, Unfiltered, and Unafraid